


Talking to Yourself

by MissMarionette



Series: Sorry to Bother You, But My Heart is Breaking (Solas x Lavellan) [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abrupt Endings to Chapters, Angst, Codependency, Dialogue Heavy, Drabble Collection, F/M, First Love, Heartache, Insecure Inquisitor, Like this is gonna get a bit ridiculous but sort of real, Melodrama, Monologue, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Painful Truths, Post-Break Up, Rehearsing your lines for a confrontation that will never happen, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Flagellation, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, Short, if they read like there's a part missing it's because there isn't, others are just passing words or ideas, some are drabble length, walking that fine line between "fuck. same." and "holy shit bitch talk to someone"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-19 03:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16526264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMarionette/pseuds/MissMarionette
Summary: In the aftermath of Solas breaking up with Lavellan, she finds herself filled with questions, regrets, and doubts. The full-length mirror in our heartbroken Inquisitor's quarters is the only audience that is allowed to listen. She doesn't know for what purpose she speaks. Self-reflection on her mistakes? Rehearsal for a confrontation she knows will never transpire? She doesn't know, she doesn't know..but sometimes the words just seem to spring from her mouth, and she is too tired to keep them prisoner any longer.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a prologue and THEN we get into it.

In the mirror, Tallin watched her hand rise to her face. The raven's talons of Dirthamen were cut neatly into her cheeks, prominent with the dark ink that stained the scars. She had chosen him because of the countless nights of listening rapt by the campfire as the elders recounted stories of the gods and how she could recite every variation by heart by the time she had reached 8 years. How she was always a quiet child that preferred to listen and wait, never raised her voice, remained unbreakable at the prospect of punishment when interrogated for information on harmless pranks that her friends played on the unsuspecting.

Her eyes, brown, _'Like mahogany..or chestnuts,'_ he once told her.

Her eyes, pupils blown large in the effort to capture the dim light that were held in sconces on the stone walls.

Her eyes, large enough to see her reflection's reflection.

Her cheek, prickling and stinging as nails began to press into the pliant flesh.

Her cheek, smearing red.

Her cheek, stinging from wet salt.

All those subtle jabs at her culture, all his criticisms that seemed to come from a place of prejudice that sounded vaguely _human_ in origin, they were legitimate. There was no question he was telling the truth. Solas was not a person to lie to bring someone low. The question that remained was _how_ he knew. Even Morrigan's knowledge seemed restricted to research from centuries-old records, how ever meticulous and exhaustive she was.

He spoke as if he had been present when the original myths were crafted.

' _And yet_ ,' she thought with a wince, ' _and yet he is so 'high-minded' that he thinks shattering my faith was a gift?_ '

He told her the Truth, and as she stood reeling from the revelation he offered, he pinned her with a few sweet words and a kiss that promised more, that silently said 'that does not matter, we are here together now'.

It would have been better had he backhanded her across the face before admitting that he much preferred her skin to be mottled with purple and red bruises. Then, as she recovered from the blow with tears in her eyes, he would give her his utmost assurance that he was capable of accepting her unmolested state just as readily. And gods damn her, by the time he uttered the word "perfect", it sounded so much like he was granting her a _favor_ with his adoration. A favor she couldn't refuse, couldn't bear or afford to rebuff. 

She prayed that he didn't know that that tear-filled kiss had not been out of relief by his words but anguish. And yet in the end it didn't matter. Before he pulled away she realized that something between them had fallen to pieces.

They had cozied up to each other over the past few months, and in that time Tallin believed she found someone who understood her in a way that resembled her Mother: Her preference for quiet, her tendency to obsessively worry, her fear of failure, her desire for someone _anyone_ to take her aside and tell her 'I am here'. The transition from some suspiciously Fade-touched elf to Inquisitor had relied heavily on emotional support from him, truly. Ashamed as she was to admit it, no one else served as the keystone for _all of this_.

Her chest felt hollow, and yet try as she might she couldn't stitch it closed fast enough.

F _orget about him. Forget about him. Forget. Forget. Forget._

That was what he wanted her to do. Forget. She was trying, gods she was trying, but not hard enough. How could he ask such a thing from her. How could he _expect_ such a thing from her, _her_.

Her meals were taken in her room, the better to avoid seeing him, the better to devote more free time to forgetting, forgetting, _forgetting_.

It wasn't working, and others were taking notice, though she quietly shut down anyone's attempts to broach the topic.

They were all insistent in their own way, with Dorian and Varric being especially sympathetic, but passive and cautious. She avoided looking Iron Bull in the eye because of how easily he would read into her fears, Cole because she simply did not want to hear what he had to say, because his truths were still lies. Blackwall and Cassandra gave the characteristic 'I'm here if you need to talk' line which was folded into her pocket out of courtesy, but never considered.

She didn't need, didn't want, any of it. They wouldn't be able to fix it. They wouldn't be able to make it all right again.

Sera had especially tried to needle her until she would give in. It all culminated into a particularly traumatic experience when she decided that weaponizing her abrasiveness with her streetborne "tough love" would glean the best results: Despite knowing better, Tallin found herself lured into Sera's nook and was quite literally pounced upon by the gangly yet spry elf whose weight led her to being pushed into her odd assortment of cushions piled generously along the oriole window's bench. Tallin tried to push her off but found herself stricken by a paralysis that she only experienced at night when thoughts of  _him_ overwhelmed her.

Bony knees pressed into her back, a loud voice rang in her ear. "Come on, you idiot! You won't get better unless you tell me what's wrong!"

She was not ready. If she told them what was wrong, then they'd go to him, and if they went to him, he would hate her even more and then he'd never love her again and she would die. They could not make her, they could not, they could not, they-- 

"Tell me, tell me, tell me, come on you idiot, tell me!"

\--could not could not could not couldnot  _couldnot couldnotcouldnotcouldnot **couldnotcouldnot COULDNOTCOULDNOT   C   O   U   L    D        N       O      T** \--_

So she screamed. She screamed as if flames had been set alight on her skin, as if she were being eaten alive by the living dead. A long, ragged, high-pitched note that she did not know she was capable of making, Sera least of all. 

She didn't remember how she was rescued, only that one minute she was unable to breathe, and another the pressure on her back had been removed and voices with words that no longer made sense began to shout. Everything was a smear from the tears that clouded her vision, everything rang hollow from her own screaming which still echoed in her head.

Without thinking she ducked underneath arms blocking her escape and jumped over the railing to land awkwardly on the ground floor. Somehow it didn't faze her. Perhaps she was driven by the dead silence that filled the tavern at the commotion, her weeping, and her spectacular fall. All she wanted in that moment was to disappear, disappear, disappear, disappear. She kept her head down as she ran across the grounds and up the stairs to the main hall. She could not hold it in. She was sputtering, clenching her teeth, tripping over herself as she madly dashed for the sanctuary of her quarters. The soft gasps and murmuring by those dignitaries that milled around for a chance to speak with Josephine might as well have been snuffed candle flames or papers blown off a table. 

It was only when she finally scaled the last stairs to her room and jogged awkwardly to her bed that Tallin was struck by how absolutely ridiculous and pathetic and  _insane_  she must have looked to all the onlookers, all of her supporters, all of her colleagues. 

_They'll think I'm insane. They_ think  _I'm insane. They think it, they know it. I'm insane I'm insane I'm insane._

This sentiment, repeated until it coalesced into a singular locus; now she finally understood what Cole meant by _a pearl of pain_. It certainly was, but it grounded her, focused her. Tears that shed for  _some_ thing instead of _every_ thing. Pain that she could touch within herself, fixate on like a figure in the distance.

Tallin lay curled up on her bed and stared out at the open balcony beyond the intricately carved footboard until the sky turned black. No one came to disturb her all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course my heart is still torn asunder by Solas breaking up with my Lavellan, and of course I took his decision as personally as one can when you're in such a position where you see your playable character as half self-insert, half daughter-I-never-knew-I-wanted. In short, it hurt big time. Though I continued playing, my mind was racing with ideas of how emotionally destructive such a bombshell would be on me had I ever made the silly mistake of ever getting into a relationship with someone (LOL), let alone how it would affect a character who possessed traits such as low self-esteem, extreme insecurity, uncertainty, a simultaneous fear/desire to be loved, and the painful knowledge that these traits she possesses are a very good reason why someone would be justified in breaking it off with her, and how it is her firm belief that she scared off one of the few good things to happen to her. I like writing characters in this way because of the Comfort that can potentially follow up the Hurt, but mostly because of the self-inflicted suffering that can just compound on a person ad infinitum.


	2. Good Listener

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, now we get into the out-of-context rambling. Bits and pieces, remember. Out of place, out of time, out of order, in front of a mirror on a Saturday night.

"Back in Haven you spoke of things I never would have dreamed of, of things that I never learned with all the myths told by clan growing up.

I loved listening to you, I thought about what you said long after we stopped talking. Seeing you became the favorite part of my day. When you smiled at me, at what I said, it felt like the sun was burning in my chest. I wanted to see you smile at me more. I came to learn that you liked it when I asked questions, but more when I simply listened to you talk. Do you remember that time when you told me that I was a good listener? Only the Keeper ever told me that before. That's why she chose me to attend the Conclave meeting...

You probably don't. You probably think it was just a nice thing to say, but it meant the world to me. I know I blushed when you said it, I know I did. I felt my face grow hot, hotter when you laughed at something I tried and failed to say. You were patient, you explained, you painted wonderful pictures with your words.

Yet when I said something wrong, something that made you frown, something that showed how ignorant I was, I wanted to die. It was odd, how easy the thought came to me. Never with anyone else. But with you...it just appeared.

Your frown.  _Die._

'I disagree.'  _Die._

'Try to imagine-'  _Die._

So in the back of my head I always worried. I worried you would hate me for something I said, or simply give up on me, that you'd return your eyes to the Fade and not look at me anymore.

I wanted your approval so much, I wanted you to like me, like me more and more. I came to agree with everything you said because you were the one who said it. What you said about the Dalish, about my people, they were barbs I was worried I could never shake off. I would be different from those who turned you away. I would not. I would learn,  _hahren_ , please teach me so I would know... 

The world outside my clan, outside our hunting grounds was scary before I came to the Conclave, before I met you. Humans were scary, magic was scary, spirits were scary. Everything is still scary but because of you I came to know  _why_ _and why not_. Because of you, I could pretend to be brave, pretend that this all made sense until it _did_.

You said things I didn't agree with yet you convinced me they were right. I don't know if they are right anymore, who is right anymore...What scares me is that I'm  _not_ scared that I don't know. 

I believed you. 

Now I believe nothing."


	3. Masked Ball

Remember the Winter Palace? Of course you do. That was a stupid question, sorry.

I was out-of-place. I knew. They knew. It was the first time that I could feel my  _vallaslin_  burning on my skin since the initial scabbing had sloughed off. Burning from..what? 

The human nobles’ eyes on me, just like back at Haven, just like in the courtyard of Skyhold. Waiting for me to do something. Do what? What did they want? I couldn't hide from them. 

Cullen told me you slipped in ahead of us, and you remained out of sight until it was time for me to be presented to the court and greet the Empress. Like Cole, you materialized without a word and remarked upon the task before us. I could only nod and try my best to not allow the glaring lights from the chandeliers and candles blind me, not fiddle nervously with my gloved hands, not forget to breathe as I descended the red carpeted stairs and crossed the ballroom floor. 

Josephine told me to watch what I said, so I said nothing unless I had to, and I was so nervous that I just said what I thought. They wore masks. How could I possibly tell what they wanted to hear if I couldn't see their faces? You can fake so much with the mouth and voice. I was glad I brought Cole along. Not that I wouldn't have wanted to go with just you! Ah, n-not that I had forgotten why we were there! Not that I'd forgotten that this was the place that my people--

Ah, I'm sorry. You don't like it when I talk about Dalish history. I'm sorry.

They called me a savage under their breaths. The clan elders had talked about what the humans called us and how we should not allow those words to wound us like arrows as they were intended to, but it was the first time that I had heard someone use such speech to describe me. I told you I had never met a human before the Conclave. Or rather, I hid behind the  _aravels_  or ducked behind the halla whenever they approached the elders for trade and disagreements. I listened but didn't speak to them then, and those men were usually civil.

Ahh-haah, I suppose I should consider myself lucky that Cassandra never resorted to such words, even when she suspected me of causing the explosion at the Conclave. Roderick didn’t, either. He hated me, you know--of course you know, you were there--but he never insulted me like that...

So no, I truly had never been called such things before that night. I always fear that people speak badly of me when they think I am not listening, but it was only there, surrounded by those people weighed down by ostentatious amounts of silk and cotton and gilded metals that I realized that my nightmares had finally come true.

The words did end up hurting. I wasn't used to it, not like you were, not like you always were.

Very quickly I fell back to my old ways in order to paste together my quickly-crumbling composure. Rocking nervously on my heeled boots. Fixing my hair. Pretending yet again to look out one of the many windows so I could just practice  _breathing_ and collect myself. I could not blow this. I could not. I absolutely could not. I could not disappoint anyone, you most of all.

But I knew people were watching. They were watching every single second of it. That was what these gatherings were for, weren’t they, an excuse to pick people apart. Why are these noble humans so cruel, why do they find cruelty to be fun? And why is cruelty rewarded with more cake and tea?  

I resolved to find you. I needed you. Again, you had disappeared from the ballroom as soon as I concluded my self-introduction to Empress Celene. Ironically, it took a momentous amount of courage to leave the ballroom. If I was flagging so miserably here, surely other areas for the mingling of guests would prove just as difficult? 

But I gingerly walked through the only open wing, past guards who did not so much as glance at me, and there I saw you.

When I saw you leaning against that statue in the guest wing, my heart flooded with a warm ache that was both suffocating and comforting. I thought we would be able to bond over how frivolous everything was. Being elves. Being outsiders. You were not Dalish, and I was, and though you knew so much of the world better than I, you dressed so simply, always, you spoke plainly, truthfully, you chose your words carefully to mean what they meant. I love you for it. Plain and simple and honest, like home. Like home.

I walked towards you, a beacon situated at the end of a long, polished floor. The sight of you, red and gold and blue, gave me strength to smile politely at the whispering guests as I passed them. I pictured what we would do together: We would laugh at them the same way they laughed at me, private jokes they would never get. You would agree it was all pointless but it must be done and how much better would the world be if this glittering one never existed?

But when I got closer, my hopeful smile had been wiped away: Tucked away in that corner, you were watching everyone, smirking. At first I thought you had started without me--what jokes would you have for me about what you had seen so far?

When you saw me, the edges in your face--cruel, I thought. For only a moment, I swear!--softened. Somewhat. You were still shining with so much happiness, and a small fearful thought in the back of my head, a wordless one that speaking with you gradually began to give sound, whispered that you were happy because of them, not despite them. I saw it in your eyes, and you told me that you felt at home here. 

Here, among these humans that would scheme to keep lands from ou--my people? That would levy heavy taxes on their serfs, or kill each other over a perceived slight without a moment's hesitation?

And as you spoke, that glimmer in your eyes had only confirmed my fears. How much you reveled in the trysts and the gossip and the games the humans played with each other! There were lives at stake, and they cared about such silly things. Even Leliana! You were deriving amusement from this entirely different world than the one I knew.

You were always so reserved even when we were together, and it was rare when I managed to even make your teeth show in your smile. And yet these people, these cruel people who sneered at our race--they made you smirk, they pleased you in a way I hadn't yet been able to.

It was the first time I remember...doubting. Doubting you. You and myself. I don't know for what, but..

But I pushed those thoughts away. Because they suggested you were not honest, because they would lead me to question you, and I couldn't let that happen. Not now.

You asked what was wrong. I could not quite form the words, and instead chose to watch as you lifted a silver cup that had been perched on the base of the sculpture, held it out to the empty space to your left, have it be promptly filled by an elf servant standing idle, and then proceeded to take in a half-mouthful of the drink. All with the air of someone who had been born into gentility. Your eyes never left my face.

 My nervous stutter resurfaced in full force as I recalled all the things these people said with the sole intention to hurt, and how it hurt more because I was not brave enough to protest like you were, was not clever like Vivienne or Dorian and able to navigate their maze-like conversations. 

Another sip and a thin smile that had no teeth, not at all like the one you gave them. As you casually swirled your cup, you remarked that these people were quite inconsequential; I should not allow their words to poison my self-worth because I was far more honorable and accomplished. It is in the nature of humans to prey upon what they do not possess.

My throat clenched and I tried to swallow. Failed, but I tried. You did not offer me a sip of your wine, which I appreciated: My distrust of alcohol was established very early on in my childhood: the erratic ways it made people behave and speak was frightening. 

I wanted to stay near you despite this concerning change in your personality. We were there with an intent to save the Empress, but with people I didn't know whispering of my mistakes, my slip-ups behind their hands ... I needed you to ground me, protect me. I couldn't do it myself. I didn't want to be here, and now I was terrified that this would be yet another world that I could lose you in.

When you kindly suggested I eavesdrop on the servants, my mouth went dry. Your tone was amicable, but the words were dead nails in my ears. I stuttered, bowed my head because it was a scolding from an elder even when it wasn't. It was to me, so it was. No matter that I dared to think that we were together, I still hadn't allowed myself to think that, not yet, not yet. You were just being considerate to me, acting as a mentor, a guide, patient, patient, patient, patient with me when I never deserved it.

I remember thinking what a foolish thing I was doing, clinging to you like a child to her mother's dress. Foolish, foolish, childish.

Before I turned to return to my investigation..I don't know how, but I asked you if you would dance with me when everything was all done. Your voice held a tinge of surprise -- when I was forward with you, you were always taken aback. I still don't know where I got my courage in those moments. No, not courage. Desperation that bubbled over until I couldn't stop myself. I don't know, I don't know...

After acquiring the key to the kitchens, you, me, Cole, and Dorian came together to further investigate the interior of Halamshiral. I did not expect how much more horrific the world of the nobility would reveal itself to be.

I tried not to cry when I saw all those dead servants. I did not scream when Leliana suggested we allow Empress Celene to die in order to draw out Florianne. I knew you would not approve of such an outburst that could jeopardize this mission, but also the calculated slaughter of a potentially strong ally. I did not want to do it in the first place, but I saw you in my mind's eye and I knew you wouldn't approve, so it's why I put my foot down. When Florianne was caught before the court, when I convinced Gaspard, Empress Celene, and Briala to work together for the betterment of the kingdom.. I was numb by the end. How I managed to rally the nobles to support these three powerful figures who were revealed to be just as untrustworthy and ambitious as the flocks they commanded, I don’t know. I don’t know.

Morrigan found me looking at the stars and trying to count each one so as to distract myself from the urge to cry. She was invaluable to the success of this mission, but I remained wary of her sudden presence even when she informed me of her new assignment to the Inquisition. I was grateful she did not pry into the reason for the misery painted on my face, nor my lack of enthusiasm for the celebration inside. She was gone as swiftly as she had come.

I waited for you with a quiet, pitiful desperation. My shoulders ached, my eyes hurt, my chest was hollow from the speech I gave as I addressed the people I had saved, the people that had scoffed and labelled me "savage" only two hours prior. They hadn't known me, and they still didn't, but now they were jubilant for something that did not involve the mockery or abject humiliation of another living being. 

And I just wanted to get away. I wanted to leave with you right then and there. But all I could do was stand on the balcony and try not to throw up while my face prickled and buzzed from the afterglow of all of those lying eyes staring up at me from the dance floor.

I cried again for a bit as I waited for you, I think some of those tears were out of fear that you had forgotten about what you promised earlier. Time stood still and circled around itself as I realized that my vision was blurring and the stars were shifting from concise pinpricks to smeared fireflies.

And then again, like a ghost, you alighted by my side and settled against the bannister as I had.

“I am not surprised to find you here.” Simple warm conversation with you, what I quietly wished for as my heart was buffeted unceasingly by the sordid words and threads of schemes interwoven by these unbelievably amoral people.

And now that the opportunity presented itself?

Silence as I stared out beyond the wide expanse of dark forest stretching into oblivion far beyond the grounds of the Winter Palace. Again, you offered a prompt for chatter by remarking upon the fickle nature of human nobility with that same wry tone. The purpose was for irony and consolation, yet it did not help as much as I wanted it to. My mouth didn’t even twitch with mirth.

Your fill of drink and sweets had not dulled you to the severity of my gloom. After a further few more minutes of me wiping my eyes and sniffling, you placed a hand on my shoulder. “Come.” 

The night was wearing heavily on me, but there still remained the desire to make you proud, to not disappoint you or look any more juvenile than I already had this evening. I wanted to dance, I really did, so when you offered me the chance...

As we stepped back to allow ourselves more room, I mentally screamed at myself to drum up the enthusiasm required. Where had it gone? How could it all be snuffed away?  

You pulled me close and I smelled the wine you had earlier this evening on your breath. Tendrils of dull distress creeped beneath my skin. This was not  _you_ , this was not the  _hahren_ I knew. It was you but it wasn’t. It was not the right person.

I closed my eyes to shut out the world and my self. Doing so, however, helped bring attention that beyond the drink still remained the faint scent of forest moss that clung to you like a second skin. A faint flicker of hope cautiously kindled itself. After reassuring if I was okay, you began to guide me across the balcony. 

I tried my best to keep up with you, I did, I wanted to show you all the steps Josephine had taught me, everything I practiced for this night, everything I practiced hoping to impress you. 

But I faltered. I tripped, like an idiot, like a fool. A stupid, stupid Dalish elf girl out-of-place among the silks and fake smiles and sweet cakes and this treacherous world that entertained you more than I ever could.

You caught me before I could collapse on the ground, as my body was by now overflowing with despair.  _Give up, give up, give up._  

There was no means of stopping the tears from falling down my burning cheeks. “I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I apologized to the shiny brass buttons of your coat. “I--I--I can d-do this.” And yet I wasn’t, not tonight, not with the person for whom it mattered the most.“I’ve b-been practicing,” I added weakly, shaking visibly in place. “I _h-have-_ -”

Your hand left my waist, and I hung my head in defeat as an entirely new wave of misery washed over me. I was beyond help, you realized in that moment.

The tiniest surprised huff of air left me when your fingers gently tucked my chin up. I sniffed, wet eyes wide with curiosity. “I know you have.”

You closed your eyes and turned your head to bring the back of my being-led hand to your lips. It was warm and soft. I sniffed. My ears picked up on the tiny sounds your kisses made as they were planted at random across my hand. This lasted for a minute, perhaps fifteen, I couldn’t be sure. 

“You do not need to impress me.” Hand back on my waist. A soft smile that reminded me of Mother. “Enjoy yourself, help me celebrate your diplomatic success.”

I tried to smile, to accept your optimism, but it hurt my mouth. You didn't shake me off when I stumbled again after only four more steps and gripped you tightly and whispered my stuttered apologies for ruining this moment we had together. I was done, I was done for the night. I couldn’t do this. No more. No more.

_When it's you I can't think straight. Everything was already fuzzy and knotted that night and you made it--you didn't make it worse, don't think that, no, no I needed you then, I need you now--I made it--_

I'm still sorry for ruining your evening, even though it seems so long ago. You told me you understood, you gave me the same look I remember Mother always gave me when I was small and didn't know why I was crying, only that I needed to for some reason, needed someone to tell me I could.

And you did. “Exhausted” as I was, “considering everything that has happened”...

You then took to meeting my numerous sorry’s with hushes. I said "sorry" a lot that night, but you eventually let me explain why I was sorry, and I managed to get in another sorry in for being so difficult. You gave me such an exasperated look then, but before I could start crying again your brows lifted and you said that I was too hard on myself and that you loved me, it was fine, you loved me, it was fine, hush, hush, hush.

I think I even napped for a minute on your shoulder as you held me close while we swayed in place as the violins began to slow. What was it like, to dance with a child?

That was the first and last time we ever did something like that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried my best to capture that mild surprise I as a gamer felt the first time I took Solas to the Winter Palace and he seemed very into it. It added a new dimension to his character that I didn't expect, and one that remains intriguing even after finishing it. I don't think it turned out quite the way I wanted as I just couldn't find the proper way to write it what with my limited non-verbal skills, but I did my best (︶︹︺) Also trying to see if I could pull off that Insecure-self-loathing-jealousy with my Lavellan. Hope it worked. I'll probably go back and add a line or two here and there just to make it read a bit more cohesively. I know I said these would only be bits and pieces, and they certainly will be, I just felt that for my Lavellan this was an important enough experience with Solas to warrant at least *this* much writing for it.


	4. Da'len

_Da'len_.

Do you know how much I loved it when you first called me that? Soft, like a mother's wistful sigh.

 _Da'len_.  _Da'len_.  _Da'len_.

A safe word. A word that reminded me of home. Warm. A blanket cast around me by your voice, pulled snug.

The word Mother used whenever my eyes began to fill with tears after being horribly startled or tripping and skinning my knee or learning one of the halla had been killed by wolves. 'Oh, _da'le-e-e-n,_ my dearest sweetling, come here..'

The word the elders used when they called on me during nightly circles around the fire, when the children would be asked to participate in the myth-making. 'Tallin-- _da'len_ \--would you like to tell us what comes next in the story?'

The word the Keeper used when bidding me farewell before I left for the Conclave. She tightened my scarf and smiled, raising her hands to cup my face and wipe tears from my cheeks. A second mother. "May Mythal watch over you as one of her favorite children _,_ protected and precious. We are so proud of you, _da'len_ , of how far you've come. We know you will continue to make us proud."

 _Da'len_.

Gentle, like a pat on the head.

 _Da'len_. _Da'len_. **_Da'len_**.

It eased the pain of being apart from Mother. Aching for her hands to braid my hair, to hold my face and kiss my nose, to assure me that my _vallaslin_ was proof enough I had earned my place among the clan. I only had to do my best; the others would do the same, and we would look out for each other, as we should -- I would not be left behind or forgotten.

I thought maybe if I did my best, I could earn that place in your heart, as you so quickly found yourself in mine-you didn't even have to try. We could be a clan of two.

But I also love my clan, _hahren_ , and I even dreamt that, maybe when everything was over, I could introduce you to my people, to Mother who would love to meet the man that had supported me in her stead. To the elders whom I would implore to listen to you, to learn from you, as I promised so long ago.

You would be revered for your wisdom, your knowledge, your experience. You would assist the Keeper, wear their robes, entertain the children with new tales of our gods, advise us on the proper treatment and nature of spirits. We could attract those like those that dwelt among the Avvar, those like Cole, to help us. You could beautify our aravels and ruins with your paint. And I would be there with my heart bursting with happiness because I would have you and you would have me and everyone and everything and we could change the world of the Dalish if we just --

I know it's a childish fantasy. Childish childish childish.

But that's why I will always be _da'len_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit (12/26/18) So after reading FenxShiral's "Project Elvhen" series, I've come to learn that "da'len" is not as straightforward as I thought. While "da" is a prefix for "small", "len" is a male pronoun and "lin" would be neutral. But Keeper Marethari referred to Merrill as "da'len" in DA2 and Solas refers to a female Elf Inquisitor as "Da'len" after you call him "hahren" during one of his initial conversations in Haven, so I will just keep it as is. (shrug)


End file.
